The Woman In the Tree

by Natasha D Lane

  But then the green darkened to the color of pig dung and all Robin felt was rage.

  She moved the dagger upward in an arc and felt pleasure erupt in her chest as it sliced Liz’s cheek. Red spilled from the wound, splattering Robin in the process, and despite the maid’s efforts to cover her cheek, the blood continued to ooze down her arm.

  Liz wailed into the night, her body shaking with each breath. The only thing louder than her scream was the sound of approaching horsemen.

  Both women stilled.

  Liz turned to her lady and grinned. “As I said, they’d be here shortly.”

  Robin could hear and feel the horses get closer with each step. The earth trembled and the vibrations ran through her like small thunderstorms--frightening her.

  “Here!” Liz screamed. “I have her here.”

  As she raised up to wave the men down, Robin rose with her. She dug her dagger into Liz’s gut, pulled it out and pushed her shocked body to the side.

  Standing on a wobbling leg, Robin peered down at her old friend, now bleeding from two wounds. “Always disarm your enemy, you doxy.”

  And then Robin ran off, away from her pursuers and north towards the woods. But she could hear them close behind. The sound of hooves grew louder and louder, the once peaceful night plundered by the foreboding sound of the traitors.

  “Come on, boys! We’ve almost got her.”

  No. Robin moved faster, ignoring the blasting pain in her leg until she didn’t feel it at all. Her burning chest had gone cold. Her arms that once ached from the struggle were numb. All she could feel, nearly all she could hear, was the rapid thumping of her heart.

  And then, she was at the woods. She moved to go around the forest when she caught sight of what was after her. Five men on horseback, approaching at quick speed, a bloody dagger raised in the air held by a still wailing Liz. All coming for her.

  No time. Robin spun to peer into the woods. Every story she had ever been told as a child warned her not to go inside. Even her uncle’s men marched around the forest when they left the castle. Still, Arthur had gone in once and came back. She could too.

  Plus, as her uncle always said, “We are becoming a country of science not witchcraft.”

  There was no more time. She pushed into the trees and shivered as laughter greeted her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was Liz from the other side of the tree line or maybe something else…

  The forest was thicker than she imagined, and Robin found herself bumping into a tree no matter which direction she chose. Her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness but unlike the road there was no moonlight here. The slivers of light that managed to touch the forest floor disappeared as soon as she spotted them. It was as if the forest was swallowing the light. Like it didn’t want her to see what was coming next.

  Robin continued to force her way through the forest, stopping every now and again to listen for horses or shouting. Neither was ever far away.

  She pressed on until that odd sensation spread through her back--that odd feeling of hot and cold, caused by her warm blood and a chilly metal. She slumped against a tree and reached behind her. The feathery end of an arrow tickled her palm.

  “She’s there, boys. Right there!”

  Lord, please, no.

  Robin shoved away from the tree. She attempted to pick up her speed once more but her body did not agree. Her pace slowed yet the world wouldn’t stop moving, no matter how often she rested. And they were always there. The men, Liz, always calling after her.

  “Come on, boys. I see her now.”

  “Please, help me,” she whispered into the black forest. She could feel herself slumping to the ground. “Please.”

  She pushed forward and wrapped her arms around the tree to stop from falling all together. As her arms encircled the trunk, she noticed there was something missing. The tree was not full. There was a hollow portion in front.

  Robin stumbled to the tree’s other side and moved her hands around. It was there. A hole big enough for her to climb into and hide.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  Robin crouched down and then moved up inside the gaping hole, pushing herself as far to the side as she could get. With the darkness, the thickness of the woods, and the odd angle Robin stood, her pursuers were not likely to see her. She sunk into this thought, allowed it to bring her some peace. Soon her heart rate slowed. Her eyelids became heavy and Robin fell asleep.

  Robin’s entire body felt rough and bruised. She opened her eyes despite better thinking and was greeted by a ray of gray sunlight that still managed to blur her sight. She hissed and looked away into the darkness, leaning her head back and taking in the scent of the forest.

  The Cursed Forest, she thought. The place no one is ever supposed to go…except Arthur…Arthur.

  Her eyes filled with scalding tears as everything came back to her. Liz’s betrayal, the burning castle, Cadfen’s men, the arrows in her…

  Robin turned to her right, reaching for her back only to have her motion stunted. She then tried to turn from her left and found she could barely move.

  She felt around her middle. Where her waist had once been there was the rough exterior of tree bark. Robin moved her hands across the wooden surface. She shook her head and stepped forward, ready to duck out of the hollowed tree and make her way north.

  There was a quick snapping sound. Robin paused.

  Is that from me?

  She moved, and again, she heard the snapping of wood. But what frightened her even more was the slow creaking noise and the palm of pressure that spread across her upper-body. She traced the direction of the bark and found it had sprouted upward and out over her chest.

  Robin took in a deep breath. The wood creaked once more.

  The young woman lunged forward towards the exit but even as the bark snapped apart it was replaced by the creaking. She thrashed in the alcove, banging her head and hands in the process of trying to escape. Repeatedly she thrust herself towards the opening, letting out screams that seemed to be swallowed by the tree, the monstrosity that only tightened its hold.

  “No,” she shouted. “No!” Robin tore at the bark until she could feel the soft wool of her clothing. And as soon as she felt that material, as soon as her heart beat slowed, there was the creaking sound teasing her ears. Another layer of the tree was formed.

  A gurgling cry erupted from the pit of her fear. The young woman ran her hands over her face and pulled at her hair as her pain, apprehension, and misery erupted into the forest. She felt warm streaks across her cheeks but she was unsure whether the warmth was from her tears or her bleeding fingernails.

  Robin dug into her scalp and screamed again, begging, pleading for release. It couldn’t all end like this. There were those that had to be reprimanded, the public had to be saved from Cadfen’s unfit rule, her cousin who would need consoling. It couldn’t end with her uncle dead, perhaps Arthur too, and her, imprisoned in a tree for eternity.

  No, no, no.

  Her thoughts became words and she began to speak them.

  “No, no, no.”

  She repeated the mantra again.

  “No, no, no.”

  She spoke loud enough to drown out the steady creaking of the wood. First, it covered her chest. Then, up to her shoulders. The bark traveled down her waist, as well. Large, steaming tears slid down her face, but she could do nothing to stop it.

  No one will ever know what happened to me. Arthur…he has Excalibur. He must be alive. He’ll look for me.

  The thought set on fresh heat behind her eyelids. Robin leaned her head forward and pressed her palms over her eyes. A small patch of cool touched her cheek. She reached for her wrist and fingered the several pieces of metal that hung from her charm bracelet. She held the middle piece between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Dragon,” she said.

  The tree creaked but she focused on the feeling of the charm.

  Arthur’s gift for my nineteenth. His last gift to me.

 
She held her wrist tight in her hand and took a long breath.

  There was the slightest sound of moving wood.

  “Someone has to be alive,” she croaked into the darkness. “Someone has to be and if it’s Arthur, he’ll look in these woods and see the bracelet. He’ll know I’m here.”

  He must.

  Robin closed her eyes. She counted the charms on her wrists all the while the bark continued to encompass her. There wasn’t much time now.

  With what little movement she had left, she stretched her right arm out of the alcove and into the gray sunlight. The bark around her shoulders tightened but she pushed through until it snapped and her arm was almost fully extended.

  The charms still twinkled a bit in the sun and the shimmers made her smile.

  The tree seemed to have increased its speed because the same arm she had just stretched out was turning into a branch in front of her. Her fingers became immobile.

  “Find me,” she whispered as the bark gripped her throat. Soon, she could make no sound. Soon there was only the thinning vision of the gray sun patches. Then, there was nothing.

  Chapter One

  A listair bit his lip. He gripped the reins as he raced south to the middle kingdom’s capital, Camelot. His eyes watered as the wind whipped past him, but he had not time to stop. He had wasted his morning finishing up an odd job for an innkeeper who he now perceived to be more of a crook than anything else.

  “Ten shillings for seven hours,” he barked out. “Nearly missed my actual job helping him and all he agrees to give me is ten shillings. Merchants, they’re all a bunch of damn criminals!”

  Fred, his horse, neighed and Alistair nodded, satisfied with his companion’s response.

  “And what makes it worse, Fred, is I have three more packages to drop off today. I’ll be late to them all because of him. If I lose…”

  The young man let his words trail off but they had already implanted in his mind.

  If I lose this job, we won’t make it through the winter.

  He let out an angry grunt and lightly kicked Fred in the side. The horse picked up speed and Alistair lowered himself so his lips were by the horse’s ears. He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his hold on the reins light so he didn’t hurt Fred.

  “We’re going to make it. Forget about what I said. No matter what comes our way, we’ve got one another.”

  Fred huffed. As streams of air spiraled from his nostrils, Alistair could feel his companion press further on, faster than before.

  Alistair stroked Fred’s side. He forced a smile onto his face. “Come hell or high water,” he said. “Come hell or high water.”

  The pair continued to move south and soon the path to Cadfen’s capital came into view. The path directed travelers around The Cursed Woods. Even those unfamiliar with the land would naturally move towards the smooth walkway instead of the ominous trees.

  Alistair wasn’t aware of anyone who didn’t know about the forest, any child who didn’t hear bedtime stories of horror detailing what lay in wait behind those trees. But they had become just that. Bed time stories. Alistair’s own mother had terrified him with tales of witches and goblins who ate little children that wandered in the forest.

  But the time of witches was gone. There hadn’t been an attack in over a decade.

  He reached up and ran his fingers through the patch of silver in his hair, always an odd contrast to the rest of his hair that was pitch black. His aunt had called it a witch’s curse, the only thing the blasted creature left him the night she tried to take his soul.

  Alistair shivered at the thought.

  The demons are extinct now. There is no longer anything to fear.

  The pair grew closer to the forest. He could see the outline of trees very well now.

  Despite the stories now serving the sole purpose of keeping children in line, a chill ran through him and the patch began to itch.

  It hates this place as much as I do it seems.

  The path to Cadfen’s capital, Camelot, was to their left but at the speed they were going, Fred and Alistair were going to pass it soon.

  Taking the path will extend my journey. Cutting through the trees will shorten it.

  The forest wasn’t too far now. The twisted trunks and branches were visible. On the other hand, the road to Cadfen’s castle was slowly disappearing.

  “They are only bed time stories,” the young man said, his eyes splitting looks between the road and the trees. “And as King Cadfen says, we are a country of science not witchcraft…what do you think?”

  Fred was quiet.

  “Should I take your silence as a yes?” Alistair pushed on.

  The horse continued his gallop.

  Alistair glanced to the left again. Then back at the trees.

  “Do you trust me, Fred?”

  His companion huffed.

  The young man nodded. “Then we’re going straight through.”

  Alistair watched as the road disappeared from his sight before turning forward as they broke through the first line of trees.

  Something wasn’t right. Alistair felt it as soon as they entered the woods. It was like something had settled on his skin. Yet, just as soon as it settled, it had been washed off, a cold bucket of water rinsing the grime away. Still, he knew it was out there, whatever it was, maybe only a feeling, waiting to latch onto him again.

  He shook himself. Paranoia did men no favors.

  Alistair swallowed the ball in his throat and forced his back straight as they made their way.

  At least I’m making good time. I’ll be ahead of schedule even.

  He took a breath and nodded. Yes, he was fine.

  Fred couldn’t gallop like he did in the open fields. The woods were thick with nature, but the horse kept a steady pace and maneuvered as needed.

  Alistair reached forward and stroked Fred’s face. “This rest will do you some good, huh, Fred?”

  The forest was noiseless aside from Fred and Alistair, but even they had started to melt into the disturbing peace of the trees. Their breathing had lowered until it was inaudible. Alistair had stopped any chitchat. He placed his hand forward on Fred’s chest and allowed himself to get lost in the rhythmic beats. The pulse was familiar. He had done the same thing with Fred’s mother when he was a child before his parents sent him to the northern kingdom.

  It was August, meaning his uncle and cousins would be celebrating the northern New Year. Ice shingles would be hung around the town and the fishermen would be working double shifts in preparation for the feast. He hadn’t heard from his cousins for some time. He gazed upward to spots of sky.

  “I wonder what they’re up to,” he said.

  When he looked ahead once more, there were several small flashes of light and then nothing.

  Alistair pulled on the reins and Fred came to a stop. He leaned back, then, moved his head up and down again. The small flashes appeared. They were coming from his left. He performed the movements a third time before nudging his horse over and going forward. The lights were no longer flashing. Now, they were glimmering in one spot above a tree branch.

  Alistair and Fred moved towards the tree where the branch protruded. He dismounted Fred and walked to the tree. The sunlight was to his back revealing the source of the light flashes.

  He reached for the branch where a leather charm bracelet hung. The material seemed to be old with signs of fading from the red leather. But the charms were perfectly intact.

  The largest charm, the middle one, was in the shape of a dragon.

  Alistair fingered the figures, before turning to the sun spots to see the light play off them again. They had to be made of good metal to have lasted so well in the elements. The carvings were detailed, too, particularly the dragon. The beast looked real enough to step off the charm and into the world.

  The young man held the bracelet over his head and stared at it. His patch of silver was itching horribly but he ignored it. “I’m not sure what young woman left you. I
t doesn’t seem she’s here now. Probably a good thing, considering all the stories about this forest. Wouldn’t be surprised if she fainted with fright.”

  Alistair felt Fred nibbling at his hair. He waved him away and stepped to the side. With one last look, he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.

  It’s not my most masculine attire but maybe it’ll bring me some luck.

  The horse pulled at his hair again and this time Alistair hissed in pain as Fred tugged hard at the roots.

  “Fred! What are you--” He had turned, hoping to twist out of his companion’s grasp but Fred wasn’t the one holding his hair. Actually, the horse hadn’t moved from where he had dismounted him.

  Alistair’s blood went cold. He widened his eyes at his horse and the animal neighed, eyes roaming upward.

  Alistair inhaled. It did nothing to calm his nerves. Slowly, with his eyes closed part of the way, he moved his head and looked up at what was holding him. For a moment, relief slipped in and Alistair could feel his blood running warm again. It was the twigs of a branch that had gotten stuck in his hair. Nothing more.

  But then he felt another tug and saw that the tips had turned into fingers--human fingers. A weightless pit of a feeling settled in Alistair, leaving him in momentary shock, before bursting into tendrils of fear that ran through him.

  He jumped forward only to find himself sideways on the ground. He tried crawling away yet whatever thing held him dragged him back, towards the black hole the branch protruded from. He screamed and grabbed at the earth, clutching onto anything that would slow his departure. The creature was relentless though. The harder he pulled, the stronger its grip. Alistair continued to scream.

  Fred rushed over. He grabbed his owner’s leg in his mouth and attempted to pull him away from the tree’s grasp. The scene went on for several minutes. Alistair hanging like a wish bone, being pulled on either end by Fred or whatever creature was trying to pull him into the alcove.

  And then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the tree released him. He dropped to the ground with his patch burning, both from the pulling and the itching.